Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1331 Please Don't Give Up
The wind from the desolate hills, carrying rust and dust from distant battlefields, brushed against Ling's downcast face. The crimson flower blooming on his chest was so cold it made one want to cry.

Pain does not originate from the body, but from the deepest throbbing of the soul.

Even at such a moment, Ling couldn't help but ponder a question: What exactly should be the relationship between a believer and his God?
Whether in the Western Continent where faith is waning or in the Eastern Continent where religion is flourishing unchecked, asking any believer this question will yield at least the same answer: the believer on earth and their deity in heaven are bound together by mutual benefit and shared loss. Believers offer their faith and desires to the deity, and the deity bestows grace and protection upon them; the more sincere the words of prayer, the more turbulent the emotions that arise from them.

In the very end, until their fates were intertwined, never to be separated...

But that's just an ideal scenario. In this real world filled with desires, interests, filth, and intrigue, the relationship between humans and gods is far from pure. There is only greed and demand: believers demand power from gods, and gods demand faith from believers. Neither side is tireless or satisfied. There are only lies and betrayal: believers tell insincere lies, deceiving themselves into believing they have a devout faith. Gods treat believers as tools to be used, discarding them at will if they are not useful. Both sides are so convinced and so hypocritical. There is only blindness and stubbornness: believers blindly follow God's commands but can never understand their true meaning. Gods stubbornly refuse believers' approach, believing that distance is the only way to maintain reverence. Both sides resist each other and resist themselves.

But perhaps that kind of faith is the right one?
Believers know what they need, and the divine knows what it can give. One gives, the other reciprocates, like a transaction where each gets what they need. Both are rational, and hidden beneath the fervor and arrogance is absolute coldness and indifference. Thus, demanding is no longer an expression of greed, lies are no longer a harbinger of betrayal, and blindness and stubbornness are no longer flaws, but merely necessary means to achieve the goal.

Mutual need, mutual exploitation, and then mutual understanding... Ironically, this is the essence of faith.

But the ideal of faith is the cruelest.

Pursuing such a cruel belief will only lead to the same fate as the young people.

Look how much pain he suffers, bearing the same wounds as the gods. But aren't the wounds that the gods can endure fatal to mortals? Look how lost he is, facing the same fate as the gods. But aren't the fates that the gods can face too heavy for mortals?

and so.

Just surrender, just admit it, just accept it—the faith of a mortal and the hypocrisy of a god…

"despite this……"

Lin Ge murmured softly, then couldn't help coughing. Warm liquid welled up in his throat, carrying a metallic sweetness. Each cough made the crimson flower on his chest bloom more brightly, but the young man showed no sign of stopping. The more the wound in his heart tore open, the more he felt an unprecedented peace, as if the flower was not a symbol of sadness and pain, but rather a flower nourished by all the beautiful emotions such as hope, ideals, kindness, and even love.

He had experienced that kind of pain, and naturally, he had also experienced that kind of love. The amazing thing was that both came from the same person. Her power was great, her soul noble, her life unique. From the ancient Stone Age to the roaring age of steam engines, no one was more mysterious than her, like a secret firmly guarded by a picture with hidden codes. But all the young man's feelings for her—from resistance to sincerity, from dependence to longing—all these feelings, all these unforgettable emotions, had nothing to do with her power, her soul, or the years she had lived. Just as a true believer wouldn't devoutly follow a god simply because he is so powerful, such a relationship is called dependence, reliance, or parasitism. The young man, however, was attracted.

Like a moth drawn to a light in the darkness, like a flower bud knowing it will bloom when gently touched by the spring breeze, or like a child attracted by an elder they've revered since childhood, a deity they've always wondered about, or even a vague yet ineffable intuition—it was all so natural. At that time, he didn't know of the Moria people and their ancient prophecies, yet he had already begun to tentatively define his own destiny.

Starting with the night she walked barefoot into his room, the love and pain of the world constantly tormented and warmed this stubborn young man, leaving countless profound marks on his life. Sometimes he felt incredibly lonely, driven to the brink of madness by these experiences; other times he felt incredibly happy, drawing strength from their warmth. Life is a contradictory dream, and young people are always afraid of losing something, failing to realize that they have gained far more than that. Therefore, like children, they only care about showing off their sharp edges to the outside world, forgetting that they can actually be hidden away.

It was that girl who made him realize that living a lonely yet happy life in a dream, or dying proudly yet sadly in reality, makes no difference. The difference between humans and gods is merely a short boundary, easily crossed with a bit of courage. If mortals are insufficient to bear the wounds borne by gods, insufficient to face the fate they face, then can gods certainly bear the loneliness borne by mortals, and face the suffering they endure?

He recalled how many times he had emphasized to Saint Charlotte, "You shouldn't have done this," only to receive her unthinking and unquestioning reply each time: "I just wanted to do it." He realized he was bearing the inevitable consequences of his own sins. If fate decreed that there could only be one true believer in the world, only one devout prayer, only a being who had been a god and then fallen to mortal, and then returned to godhood, could help people find the true meaning of faith in endless time and space, then he thought, it must be himself, it must be this moment.

and so.

“Even so,” he calmly offered the most sincere prayer of his life, “please do not give up.”

……

Saint Charlotte suddenly froze, but that moment of distraction wasn't because she realized that the life force was uncontrollably draining from her body, reminding her of things from long ago, such as the memory of dying once before; rather, it was because she suddenly heard someone say in her ear, "Please don't give up."

She felt as if a shameful secret of hers had been exposed.

Yes, she had initially wanted to give up. As Calabos's scythe pierced her heart, and blood gently flowed, she began to consider giving up, and in a fraction of a second, she realized its necessity. But this decision had nothing to do with how powerful Calabos was; it was simply because if she didn't give up, the young man whose fate was now inextricably linked to hers might be forced to endure a tragic end. Perhaps… “death”?

There was no way around it; she had already lost. An incomplete power of destiny couldn't withstand a complete power of darkness. This was probably a simple logic even Alice could understand. Of course, if she stubbornly refused to admit her defeat, like the most stubborn child, that was fine too, as long as it could be changed. In that battle across the universe, didn't Alice's Armed Goddess have been defeated countless times by Carabosse, only to be reborn from the ashes again and again? Because the power of a young girl's destiny has no inherent strength or weakness; the only thing that defines it is the mind. In other words, if your heart is firm, then reversing fate and turning defeat into victory is not impossible.

But what will be the cost?

To reweave a fixed thread of fate, to change a predetermined failure into another ending that no one can yet determine, is tantamount to reversing time and reversing cause and effect. It is impossible to do so without paying a price. However, at this moment, Saint Charlotte really has nothing worth paying a price for... except for that young man's faith.

But he had such faith in himself.

Entrusting everything to oneself without reservation.

How could he possibly bear to burn away his faith to create the future he desired? Besides, in that future, he might no longer even exist…

Thinking of this, Saint Charlotte couldn't help but want to give up. Yes, she carried the expectations of many people on her shoulders, this battle would indeed determine the fate of millions, and the world was indeed facing an unimaginable crisis. The path to salvation was in her hands. If she were a true god, wouldn't she be able to sacrifice one person's life without hesitation to save many lives?
But she can't.

Ah, having already wronged him so much, must they take away his only treasure at the last moment? If he loses his life, how will he fulfill his promise to his adoptive father and take care of his sister? How will he fulfill his promise to himself and learn to love this world again? How will he fulfill his promise to everyone, to be deeply loved by everyone, and to love everyone deeply in return?
Humans are prone to selfishness, and at this moment, Saint Xialia couldn't help but think that she should use her last bit of strength to send him and everyone on Cloud Whale Sky Island away, to a place very, very far away, where no one could find them. There, they could live happily together, oblivious to the outside world, the witches' plans, and even the power struggles among the young princesses. Just like in fairy tales, they could enjoy a beautiful happy ending.

Even if it belongs only to oneself.

However, he remained as perceptive as ever, easily seeing through his own little scheme.

Then, in your usual calm yet unwavering tone, tell yourself: Please don't give up.

Even though it requires sacrifice, please don't give up.

At this moment, Saint Charlotte felt a surge of sorrow that made her want to weep, yet also a proud desire to smile. For this young man was her believer, this gentle, compassionate, and merciful young man, her only believer in this world, and one was all she needed. He was weak, lacking the great power of a god; he was insignificant, more conspicuous than most mortals in a crowd; he was small, his ideals and desires, from beginning to end, consisting solely of wanting to live a peaceful life with those around him.

It's wonderful that someone like that is willing to become your believer.

"Ah."

Saint Xialia replied softly, trying hard not to let her voice choke up, because she knew that the man's fate was closely intertwined with her own. If she cried in the last moments of his life, he would surely be heartbroken too. She was his goddess, and in her short journey as a goddess, which was only just beginning and would probably end soon, she had never been so clearly aware of how happy she was and how lonely he was.

After all, there may be many real gods in the world, but there will always be only one true believer.

Gently grasping the tip of the scythe, ignoring the pale blue blood silently trickling from the wound, the blue-haired girl slowly and resolutely pushed it away from her heart, as if refusing a predetermined fate from entering her life and resolving to embark on a completely different path. As the girl of destiny, Wang Quan, she undoubtedly possessed this qualification.

"Feel sorry……"

The girl slowly raised her head. The goddess of darkness, Calabos, had left her side sometime earlier and stood silently in the void not far away, gazing at her. The threads of fate had been plucked; the course of the story began to change from this moment on. As the instigator of everything, Saint Sharia was neither happy nor arrogant, merely offering her opponent a smile—a smile so enigmatic that even the wind and rain seemed to feel sorrow: "I originally... I might have planned to give up... Cowardly, right? I'm probably not the Saint Sharia you're looking for, Calabos... She must have been very strong, and so gentle, that's why you can't forget her... I'm not that kind of person. I'm a coward who, even when I've made up my mind, can't bring myself to break free; a complete loser who wants to give up before I've even truly lost... But because everyone supported me, because so many people were expecting me, and more importantly, because of his encouragement, so I..."

She gently placed her hand on her heart. The threads of fate intertwined into a net, its veins like blood vessels, tightly binding that young heart that never stopped beating. In a voice only she and that person could hear, she whispered, "I don't want to give up yet."

Give me some cats